by Lucy Quinn
Only a handful of other people were using the computers, so Cookie was able to snag one of the machines closest to the windows. She grabbed the chair from the next computer and carried it over so that both she and Rain could sit together, then opened the machine’s Internet browser. “All right,” she said, “what do we know so far?”
“We know that somebody chopped off a man’s hand and mailed it to you,” Rain replied, lowering her voice at Cookie’s frantic gesture. “Sorry.”
“Hmm, but that’s not really true, is it?” Cookie pointed out, thinking about what her mother had just said. She twirled a strand of her silky hair around her finger. “The first part is, sure, and Jared—Doctor Delgado—is looking to see what he can tell us about the hand, the man it came from, and even how it was cut off. But it didn’t come by regular mail, which is probably for the best because, gross. It came by courier.”
Rain brightened. “That’s right. Cute Delivery Guy.”
“I don’t suppose you caught the name of the company?” Cookie asked, and she wasn’t surprised when her mother shook her head.
“Nope, sorry. I was more interested in his package than his uniform.” Rain smirked.
“Of course you were.” Cookie rolled her eyes while stifling a chuckle. It was hard not to be amused by her mother’s one-track mind sometimes. “Well, there can’t be that many courier companies around here.” The keys of the computer clicked as Cookie pulled up a local directory and typed in courier service. Five company names appeared, and she pulled out her phone. “Now we start calling.”
“Calling? Pshaw! Let me at this thing.” Rain dragged the keyboard closer to her and began typing in search commands. “Let’s see,” she muttered as pecked away at the keyboard. “Cute, dark hair, nice tush, delivery, mysterious package, and—Voila!”
Even as warning bells went off in Cookie’s head her mother hit Enter and ran the search.
Instantly, the computer screen began to fill with window after window after window of x-rated content. New ones popped up so fast their contents barely registered before they were blotted out by the next. But what little Cookie did see of them was likely be burned into her brain forever. Especially since some of those windows had sound. She hurriedly switched off the computer’s speakers, but not before a series of moans and groans and cries filled the room.
Heads swiveled in their direction, and a young assistant librarian stationed off to one side rose to his feet and quickly headed toward them. He stopped, though, when he saw that it was two women sitting at the computer and looked even more confused when Cookie mouthed “sorry” at him. It was clear that he’d had far less apologetic encounters over similar material. And after a second, he simply nodded and returned to his post, evidently trusting Cookie and her mother to protect their own virtue.
Rain was oblivious, of course. “Oh!” she said, avidly watching the screen. “Well, that’s a good package, all right. And he is dressed as a delivery boy, but I don’t think they really do that, do they? If so, we’ve been ordering from the wrong places.” She tilted her head as she studied the screen. “Hmm, now that’s nice, I haven’t really seen something like that in a while. Maybe—”
“Mom!” Cookie grabbed the mouse and tried her best to kill each window, but they were popping up too fast for her to keep up. Finally, she gave up and killed the browser instead. It still spawned at least three more ads before it died, and she leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “What were you thinking?” she demanded after a second, careful to keep her voice down to a hushed whisper. “We’re looking up couriers, not delivery-guy porn.”
“I didn’t even realize there was a delivery-guy category,” Rain insisted, though she didn’t look the least bit embarrassed about finding it. Then she arched an eyebrow. “But it appears you did. The question is how? Care to explain, dear?” she asked with a knowing smirk.
“Lucky freaking guess,” Cookie growled back. She rebooted the browser, ran the search again, and readied her phone. “Now let’s do this the right way,” she declared, dialing the first number. “Hello, is this ABC Deliveries?” she asked after the call had connected. “Hi, I’m Cookie James. I’m with the Hancock Sheriff’s Office, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”
“Boring,” Rain muttered beside her, crossing her arms. “At least let me go back to those other sites while you do this. Some of those videos seemed quite…informative.”
Cookie ignored her, but did scoop both the mouse and keyboard off the desk and into her lap for safekeeping.
11
Unfortunately, even without interference from Rain, the phone calls wound up being unproductive.
“I thought they had to answer your questions,” Rain huffed as the two of them gathered their things and exited the library. Cookie pointedly ignored the assistant librarian’s judgmental parting glare, and the way he eyed them the whole way out the door as if he was afraid they were going to steal something. But she didn’t miss the way the way he scrambled behind them and shut the door with a solid thud. “Isn’t that the whole point of being the law?” her mother continued. “That people have to do what you say and tell you the truth and all that?”
Cookie cast a sidelong glance at her mother. “When has that ever worked on you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Most of the time, it makes you do the exact opposite.”
Rain didn’t even try to deny that. “Well, sure,” she replied instead. “But that’s me. We’re talking regular people here.” That made Cookie laugh, especially since it was true. Nobody who’d ever met Rain would call her regular.
“Most people do want to stay on our good side,” Cookie agreed. “But how far they’ll go to get there is different from person to person. Some will tell me anything and everything, right down to their cup size, what they had for breakfast, and how many donuts they snuck from the corporate break room. Others will answer the basics, and they’ll stay polite, but without a court order?” She shrugged. “It’s all ‘protecting the clients’ privacy’ and ‘looking out for our employees’ and so on.”
Which was exactly what she’d gotten from all five of the places she’d called. All of them had been perfectly pleasant on the phone. All of them had been apologetic. And all of them had basically said, “get a court order and we’ll show you our records, otherwise forget about it.”
And naturally, she couldn’t get a court order. Not for something like this. If she suspected that one of these companies had an employee who had committed a serious crime, like if she thought the delivery guy had been the one to kill whomever that hand belonged to, then she could get a court order. But only if she could show enough evidence to either prove they were involved or at least make it reasonably likely. Since, as far as she knew, the killer had simply hired the courier to deliver the package, she had no leverage on the company. She hadn’t even been able to get any of the companies to confirm that they’d been the one to deliver it, which would have at least given her a place to start. But even though she’d been the recipient, they insisted that they’d need to be ordered to divulge their records.
Which meant, at least for now, the courier angle was a waste of time. So Cookie thought, but Rain, it turned out, had other ideas.
“I know!” she announced, stopping on the sidewalk and snapping her fingers. “We could go to Winter’s.”
“Winter’s tea shop?” Winter was one of Rain’s oldest friends, from back in her real hippie days, and it turned out she had a ‘medicinal’ tea shop here in Hancock. Which Cookie hadn’t known until Winter had shown up at the inn one evening to hang out with Rain. Rain claimed it was a total coincidence and that she’d only discovered it that same day. But Cookie suspected that was a lie, and that Winter’s presence here had strongly influenced Rain’s suggestion that they head up to Maine in general and this area in particular.
Not that Cookie disliked Winter. She’d known the older woman since childhood, but Winter was just as flakey as Rain. And together, well, the two o
f them were trouble.
Right now, though, Cookie was puzzled. “Why would Winter know anything about any of this?” she asked. Of course, Winter liked to get high as much as Rain did, but even if Rain had known about the drug aspect of this case, which Cookie was still reasonably sure she did not, these illegal drugs were a very different beast, and she couldn’t see Winter going anywhere near that stuff.
But Rain’s answer had nothing to do with drugs. “Winter knows everybody,” she explained. “If anybody can tell us who my hot delivery guy is, it’s her.”
Cookie considered that. It actually wasn’t a bad plan. She’d certainly used Rain’s similar knowledge of Secret Seal Isle and its inhabitants to locate persons of interest in the other two cases she’d worked over the past month. And since they were already in town and she didn’t have any other leads, what did they have to lose? “Okay, sure,” she said. “Let’s go see Winter.”
From her mother’s squeal, you’d have thought Cookie had just promised to take her on a shopping spree or to a high-end spa or something. Or maybe that Rain and Winter hadn’t seen each other in years, when in fact they’d gotten together just a few days ago. But at least it made her mother happy.
Winter’s shop wasn’t hard to find. It was close to the docks, as was everything else in this coastal town, and the second Cookie saw it she knew it had to be the right place. The large, wooden, teapot-shaped sign hung from an iron post just above the front door. The Tea Tripper was written in flouncy script that made her think of Alice in Wonderland.
Rain led the way up the front steps, then pushed open the wide, curve-topped front door with its cheerful stained-glass panels. A set of wind chimes tinkled merrily at their entrance.
“Hello?” Rain called out. She paused just inside the door, and then tried again, sounding a little surprised. “Hello? Winter?”
Cookie was right behind her, and suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She put one hand under the back of her shirt to grasp the butt of her pistol. It did seem awfully quiet in here. Especially for Winter.
But then there was a loud bustling from the back of the store, and a second later a large, heavyset older woman came barreling into the room, her long silvery braid flying behind her. “Rain! Cookie!” Winter called out as she rushed forward to scoop each of them up into a massive bear hug that made Cookie’s back crack. “How are you both?” She released the women, and Cookie’s unease vanished.
“Welcome to The Tea Tripper!” Winter spread her arms and spun around, clearly very proud of her commercial enterprise.
Now that Cookie had a second to look around, she could see this place was one hundred percent Winter. The shop looked like—well, it looked like someone had taken a nice, quiet, cozy little tea shop and then gone on a wild bender before deciding to redecorate in a drugged-out sixties motif. Lava lamps stood in many of the corners. Gods-eyes and dream-catchers decorated most of the windows. Beaded curtains hung across several of the aisles, while batiks covered the walls and the ceiling. Then there were brightly colored throw pillows tucked away in wicker cubbies, and long strands of beads, colored lights, and leis dangled along the tops of the windows.
Cookie also couldn’t help noticing that the row of specialty teas arranged behind the counter all had fanciful names like Dreamweaver and State of Zen and Astral Delight. She was willing to bet they did not list their ingredients, because at least a few of those likely included substances that would not pass an FDA inspection.
The glass-fronted counter also held a variety of teacups, teapots, tea balls, and other tea paraphernalia. Behind them were hookahs and what looked suspiciously like hash pipes tucked in back. Still, Cookie nodded. “It’s very nice,” she assured the older woman. “And it’s got your personality all over it.”
Winter beamed at Cookie’s praise.
“What can I get you two?” Winter asked them, guiding them through a curtained doorway and into a second room, which had been outfitted like a little café with tables and chairs arranged in small groups. “Some tea? Scones? Biscuits? Maybe a few finger sandwiches?”
A small chalkboard on the wall listed the tea shop’s food and drink offerings, and Cookie frowned at one of the items. “Blissful Brownies?” she said aloud. “Are those—?”
Rain started to deny it, but Winter had even less tact than she did. “Oh, yes,” she agreed right away. “The brownies your mother and I came up with that night back at the inn. They’re a huge hit, too. Would you like one?” If she was being facetious at all, Cookie honestly couldn’t tell.
“No, thanks,” she answered. “I’m sort of on duty. And we actually came to see if you could help us with something.”
“Ooh.” Her face lit up with excitement. “Do tell!” Winter ushered them to a table by the window and disappeared to get them tea. Cookie glanced at the few other customers seated nearby who were drinking hot beverages and eating cookies or brownies. All of them appeared suitably zoned out.
Winter returned with a pot of tea, a plate of cookies, and three cups that rattled as she set them down at the table.
“Thanks.” Cookie hadn’t realized that she was starting to get a little peckish, and the pastries did look good. So after first sniffing the drink to make sure it was legal, she poured herself a cup of tea and snagged a butter cookie. “We’re trying to find somebody, and we were hoping you might know who he is.”
“He’s a real cutie,” Rain put in, taking what looked like a white-chocolate chunk cookie for herself. “Works as a courier. Tall, slim, dark curly hair, nice nose, brown eyes, chipped front tooth, nice butt. Ring any bells?”
“No, but I’d sure like him too,” Winter declared, and she and Rain both giggled like schoolgirls. Which was what always happened whenever they were together. They suddenly turned into pre-teens again.
“We’re serious, Winter,” Cookie told her after devouring her treat. The buttery goodness was too much to resist, and she reached for another. “It would be a big help if you could identify him.”
“Gotcha.” Winter sat back and thought, her brow creased, but after a minute she shook her head. “I really don’t know anyone who fits that description. Sorry.”
“Do you know anybody at any of the courier agencies here in town?” Cookie asked.
“A few,” Winter answered. “Mostly at Ace Deliveries, a couple at Speedy Couriers. Nobody who sounds like that, though.” She gave Rain a conspiratorial look. “Sounds like you lucked out.”
“Only if I can find him again,” Rain replied, winking back. “We barely had time to exchange hellos.”
“Talking is overrated anyway, right, Rain?” her friend teased, making both of them snicker again, and Cookie rolled her eyes. Why was it that they were twice her age, but she was the one who wound up feeling like a disapproving matron whenever she was around them both? “What was the name of that one you told me about from the other week?” Winter asked Rain and then threw a knowing glance at Cookie. “You know, the one from the shed?”
“Oh, you mean Anthony? He’s nice enough. Rain waggled her eyebrows. “And certainly eager.” Rain glanced to Cookie. “You remember him, don’t you?”
“A whole lot more than I ever wanted to,” Cookie replied, making the two older women howl with laughter even as she shuddered. It had been during Hunter’s first visit here, and the first case she’d wound up falling into on the island. She and Hunter had been talking and had heard strange noises coming from the side of the house. They’d gone to investigate, guns drawn, only to find Rain in the shed, ‘entertaining’ a male friend. Cookie had been horrified; Hunter had been traumatized; and the man, Anthony, had been embarrassed. But Rain? She’d thought it was funny. And had evidently told Winter all about it.
“Are you still seeing him at all?” Winter was asking.
“Not anything regular, no,” Cookie’s mother answered. “I think he’d like it to be more frequent, but while he’s fine for a bit of fun, I’m not sure about anything more. He’s a little u
nstable, and I think he makes bad life choices.” Cookie thought that was pretty funny, coming from her mother, but she chose not to pursue it. It just wasn’t worth the headache.
“Sorry I can’t help more,” Winter told her, patting her hand. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, and if I see anybody who fits that description, I’ll give you a holler.” Then she leered a bit. “Though I might try him out myself, first.”
Some women would have gotten possessive, claiming they’d spotted him first, but Rain just chuckled. “Go right ahead,” she said cheerfully. “You know I like it when they’ve been broken in.” While the older women laughed, Cookie tried to focus entirely on her tea and a third cookie. When she got home, she was going to have to scrub her brain by binge-watching something mindless on Netflix.
Fortunately, the front-door chime sounded. “Oops, more customers, gotta go,” Winter said, heaving herself out of her chair. “Feel free to stick around if you’d like. Have some more cookies, finish off the pot. My treat.” Then she disappeared through the curtain toward the front room.
Cookie and Rain did drink a little more tea, but skipped the pastries. After a few minutes they got up and retraced their steps to leave. Winter was behind the counter talking to a customer, but waved at them as they headed out.
“Guess that was a bust, huh?” Rain asked when they were back outside.
“Not entirely,” Cookie answered. “It sounds like our guy isn’t from Ace or Speedy, so that narrows the list down, which is something, anyway. Maybe when Hunter gets here, he and I can visit the other three. Often people will admit things in person that they won’t over the phone. We’ll see.” She shrugged. “It was a nice break, anyway.”
Rain nodded. “And we found out the brownies are doing well.” She smiled. “If they keep on selling, we won’t have to worry so much about the inn.”
Cookie managed to smile back. She was pleased that her mother had found another way to pay the bills, since neither of them had a job outside the inn itself and business hadn’t exactly been booming there. She just wished Rain’s method didn’t involve baked goods with questionable ingredients.